Reflections on 2025 for ABA Professionals: Intentionality, Community, and Learning to Let Go
- Brigid McCormick
- 13 hours ago
- 8 min read
As I look back on 2025, the themes that keep rising to the surface—louder and clearer than anything else—are intentionality, community, and learning to let go.
These aren't the polished, LinkedIn-ready reflections. This is the real version. The messy, honest, "I'm still figuring this out" version. And I think that's what makes these reflections on 2025 for ABA professionals worth sharing.
Because if this year taught me anything, it's that the work of building a sustainable practice, a meaningful community, and a career you're actually proud of isn't about having it all figured out. It's about moving with intention, trusting the process, and being willing to let go of what's not serving you anymore.
The Power of Community
For 11 years, Precision ABA has been built on the quiet, steady work of curating a community with intention. Not just hiring staff, not just "working with clients"—but intentionally creating a space where people genuinely care about growth, honesty, curiosity, and one another. A space where families feel safe, clinicians feel supported, and the work feels meaningful.
This year, that community grew. And I'll be honest: saying yes to growth was equal parts exciting and nerve-racking. Uncertainty always is. Bringing on three BCBAs, expanding our technician team, welcoming new clients—none of that happens without a moment of "Are we ready for this?"
But what grounded me was the confidence that we've always been deliberate about who we bring into Precision ABA. We've never been casual about fit. We curate culture on purpose. And because of that, the new additions to our team didn't just join us—they belonged here from day one. It felt seamless in the way only well-matched communities do.
One of the most unexpected joys of this year was watching a group of our team attend the Precision Teaching Conference together. You could feel the energy shift. The broader Precision Teaching community has such a strong legacy—decades of shared learning histories, oral traditions, and people who have carried this science forward with heart and humility. It's a community that knows where it came from and cares deeply about where it's going.
Introducing my team to that world was a moment of pure alignment. I got to watch them step into a lineage bigger than any one of us, and I got to witness how warmly they were welcomed. The acceptance was immediate and genuine—open arms in the truest sense. There's something incredibly moving about seeing the people you've poured into embraced by the larger community that shaped you.
If 2025 taught me anything, it's this: communities don't happen accidentally. They're curated, nurtured, protected, and grown with intention. And when you do that work—when you choose people thoughtfully, invest in their development, and anchor the culture in shared values—the result is a network of humans who lift each other higher than any of us could go alone.
These reflections on 2025 for ABA professionals wouldn't be complete without acknowledging that community is everything. We are never doing this work alone—and the right community changes everything.
What This Year Taught Me as a Professional: Intentionality Is Everything
When I think about what 2025 taught me as a professional, one lesson rises above the rest: intentionality is everything.
This year reinforced, over and over again, that when we move with purpose—even quietly, even slowly—it creates an ease on the outside that looks almost effortless. But that ease isn't accidental. It's the product of thoughtful choices, careful alignment, and a refusal to rush decisions just to check a box.
I've learned that when something is right, it shows up that way from the beginning. The fit feels clean. The path feels steady. There's a sense of "of course this is it" that you can't manufacture.
And the opposite is true too—when something isn't aligned, you feel that just as clearly. 2025 taught me to trust that feeling more quickly, to honor the signals instead of trying to "work harder" to make something fit that was never meant to. Intentionality isn't just about what you choose; it's also about what you let go of.
Professionally, this was a year where I saw how long-term seeds finally take shape. Projects that were built slowly, systems that were designed deliberately, people who were selected with care—all of it came together in ways that felt deeply aligned with the future I've been envisioning for years. There's something incredibly validating about watching intention turn into reality.
What surprised me most is how natural it all felt once it clicked. Not easy—but right. And there's a big difference. Ease isn't the absence of work; it's the presence of alignment.
So if these reflections on 2025 for ABA professionals teach us anything, it's this: when you lead with intentionality, trust your instincts, and allow things to unfold at the pace they require, the outcomes have a way of meeting—and often exceeding—the hopes you held for them. Intentional choices compound. They create momentum. And eventually, they form the foundation of work you're truly proud of.
What I'm Learning to Walk Away From This Year
I recently had a chat with ChatGPT (yes, I know—welcome to my life now), and let me tell you: using AI as a self-reflection tool is equal parts awesome and mildly terrifying.
There is nothing quite like typing out your deepest leadership habits and having a robot say, "Hmm, that sounds like a belief worth revisiting."
Cute. Thanks. Great. Love that for me.
One belief in particular hit me right between the eyes:
"If I don't do it, no one else will."
Ah yes… that story. My old familiar friend.
And here's the problem with that story:
When I believe that, I don't just solve actual problems. I solve anticipated problems. Problems no one else has even noticed. Problems that technically do not exist yet in the known universe.
It's like playing Whac-A-Mole, except I'm the only person who sees the mole, I'm holding the mallet 24/7, and honestly the mole might just be a shadow.
How This Shows Up in Motherhood (AKA My Olympic Sport of Anticipation)
This mindset is basically the national anthem of motherhood.
We know every permission slip deadline, sock shortage, emotional need, upcoming meltdown window, and snack depletion crisis before it happens.
We pre-run every scenario like we're NASA calculating a launch trajectory.
All so nothing ever falls through the cracks and the people we love are okay.
But the tradeoff?
They never get to feel the natural consequences that teach growth.
We scoop the socks, pack the snacks, sign the papers, anticipate the needs…
And then we wonder why our kids don't automatically step in.
Sometimes, people—kids and adults—need the experience of something not being done in order to recognize, "Oh. That's my job."
It's uncomfortable. And sometimes annoying. And sometimes VERY messy.
But it's also how learning happens.
And Shockingly… This Applies to Business Too
This year, I learned that I've been carrying that same anticipatory load in business.
"If I don't prepare for it, no one else will." "If I don't make sure it's perfect, something will fall apart." "If I don't solve this before it's a thing, the thing will become a thing."
In 2025, I intentionally stepped back a bit—just enough to let people feel their own impact, their own responsibilities, their own follow-through.
That meant some long-time families might have felt the shift, and that's okay. It wasn't distance—it was growth.
And I want to say this clearly:
Stepping back does NOT mean I am any less involved.
I still know your kids. I still care deeply about their progress, their personalities, their quirks, their wins. And I still work every day to ensure our community honors them for the incredible humans they are.
What's changed is that I'm trusting the community we've built to hold that with me—not only because of me.
Your Invitation: The "Let It Drop" Experiment
So here's my challenge for you as we wrap up 2025: Find one tiny thing you can intentionally let drop.
Not something catastrophic. Not something that will ruin your life. Just one little thing that makes you slightly uncomfortable to release.
And then… see what happens.
Maybe someone else steps in. Maybe nothing bad happens at all. Maybe it teaches your colleague, team member, or even you something important.
Sometimes the world won't fall apart if you stop holding it up for a minute.
Sometimes it actually rearranges itself in a way that's better for everyone.
Here's to doing less, trusting more, and letting a few moles stay underground.
Why High-Fidelity ABA Matters More Than Ever
In the 15 years I've been in the field of ABA, the landscape has shifted more dramatically than many newer clinicians even realize. Those of you with older children remember the pre-mandate days—when ABA therapy was paid for out-of-pocket, often accessible only to families who could afford it.
We've lived through the wild west of no regulation, to the era of heavy regulation—from technicians receiving minimal oversight to today's ongoing education requirements. And in many ways, these shifts have pushed our field in the right direction. We've moved toward more compassionate care, greater respect for children and their autonomy, and a deeper understanding of what it means to truly support a whole child.
But these same 15 years have also brought something else: private equity, venture capital, and the rise of massive ABA companies.
These organizations often prioritize efficiency, standardization, and scalability above everything else—including individualized support, clinician competence, and the kind of deep, intentional training that actually produces meaningful outcomes for children.
And now, here in 2025, another force has entered the arena: AI.
With it comes breathtaking possibility—and equally breathtaking risk.
AI can now collect data instead of technicians. It can make recommendations about therapy goals. It can evaluate intervention appropriateness. It can even coach technicians in real time as they respond to a child's behavior.
In the hands of someone well-trained, grounded, and experienced, these tools can increase effectiveness, reduce noise in the data, and elevate the quality of care. They can help practitioners grow exponentially alongside their learners.
But here's the hard truth: our field is overwhelmingly undertrained and underprepared.
Too many clinicians do not deeply understand the principles that underlie applied behavior analysis.
They cannot fluently tune into a learner's needs.
They have not been taught to show up with empathy, with humility, or with the kind of steadiness that makes them trustworthy leaders for families, technicians, and children.
And AI cannot fix that. In some ways, it amplifies it.
Which means 2026 will be an interesting year—for the field of behavior analysis, and for us.
Because next year, we're launching something new. Something big.
A project focused on transferring the exact skills we use every day—the ones that make Precision ABA a place families trust—to clinicians across the broader field.
Actual foundational competence. Actual instructional design. Actual decision-making fluency. Actual leadership.
More on that very soon.
But what I want you to know right now is this. At Precision ABA:
We remain people-focused first.
We are pencil-and-paper graphing, chart-analyzing, data-grounded, hands-on practitioners.
We show up differently for each child because each child needs something different.
And our commitment to individualized, intentional, high-fidelity clinical care is unwavering—no matter what the industry or the technology landscape looks like.
We are profoundly grateful to have a community that believes in this work and supports the way we do it.
This 2026 will be a year of evolution—for ABA, and for us. And I'm proud that we're walking into it together.
Final Thoughts on Reflections on 2025 for ABA Professionals
As we close out this year, here's what I hope you take with you:
Communities are built with intention. Choose your people thoughtfully, invest in their development, and anchor your culture in shared values.
Intentionality compounds. When you lead with purpose and trust your instincts, the outcomes often exceed your hopes.
Sometimes the most important work is learning what to walk away from. You don't have to hold everything up. Trust others to step in.
High-fidelity practice matters more than ever. As the field changes, our commitment to individualized, thoughtful, people-focused care remains unwavering.
What did 2025 teach you? What are you carrying forward into 2026?
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